Devout followers of David Eugene Edwards and Wovenhand will note that Silver Sash is separated from its predecessor, 2016’s Star Treatment (review here), by about five and a half years, which makes it the longest break between records in the band’s tenure of 20-plus years. Released through Glitterhouse in limited vinyl and CD pressings as well as downloads, it’s the 10th full-length from the band overall (not counting two collaborations with Ultima Vez earlier on) and, understandably, brings a shift in approach on the part of Edwards (also formerly of 16 Horsepower) in working directly on songwriting with guitarist Chuck French.

The narrative (blessings and peace upon it) has it that the nine-track, 32-minute offering was whittled out of/built upward from instrumental pieces by French over the course of four years, with Edwards recording vocals at home after the music was done at French‘s. All this is perhaps intended to account for a shift in aesthetic that, while still finds a song like “Dead Dead Beat” or the subsequent “Omaha” plenty grand and bombastic in the spirit of Star Treatment and the last few records before to an increasing degree — 2014’s Refractory Obdurate (review here), 2012’s The Laughing Stalk (review here) and 2010’s The Threshingfloor (discussed here) each growing a little bolder in engaging heavy tones as well as weighted atmospheres — there are more subdued stretches like “Duat Hawk,” “8 of 9” and the brooding title-track, which closes and sets its melancholy to a burgeoning electric freneticism.

Silver Sash does not represent Edwards‘ first forays into electronic music. Late in 2020, the collaborative single with Carpenter Brut, “Fab Tool” (posted here) was issued, and some of its grand cinematic scope can be heard in “The Lash” or even opener “Tempel Timber,” alongside the familiar shimmer of guitar and Edwards‘ trademark vocal delivery, as rife with proclamations, exaltations and a severe, almost-affronted cadence as ever. “Tempel Timber” hints toward some of Silver Sash‘s more experimental aspects in a quiet midsection, but for fans of Wovenhand‘s early work, the subtly-laced-in percussion that accompanies the subsequent swell should feel like a dogwhistle harkening back to some of the adventurous arrangements of records like 2002’s self-titled debut (discussed here), the aforementioned Ultima Vez collabs, 2006’s Mosaic or 2008’s Ten Stones; a different era of approach for Edwards and company as they evolved out of the neo-folk beginnings of the band and toward the more rock-leaning fare that eventually resulted in Star Treatment.

One way or the other, Wovenhand are individual in terms of their sound. A big part of that is Edward‘s voice, and Silver Sash makes that case efficiently throughout its tracks — of which only “The Lash” and the penultimate “8 of 9” top four minutes long — as a song like “Duat Hawk” finds him calling out Native American tribe names in the lyrics and following the insistent snare of “Acacia” with more open ground and mellower acoustic guitar layered in. There are still plenty of outwardly heavy moments. The later “Sicagnu” rumbles and explodes with volatility, and melodic as it is, and “Dead Dead Beat” hits on the kind of harder-hitting boogie Wovenhand heave leaned toward over the last 10 years, though there too the arrangement feels broader, the jam underneath the ending fluid despite its relative brevity. And with the fuzz and build up of centerpiece track “Omaha” making a constant of its rawer tonal hum, electronic blowout and underlying rhythm that borders on the confrontational, the vibe throughout Silver Sash is certainly not lacking energy.

It’s just less straightforward in how that energy is brought to light. Ultimately, what Silver Sash does is speak to the varying sides of Wovenhand, from the whatever-works-as-long-as-it-makes-the-right-sound style of some of their post-self-titled material to the manifest heavy of the later, emphasizing the dynamic between them, and still managing to accomplish something new (or at least new-ish) in sound by focusing at times on those electronic/software-based elements. It is both traditional and not, Americana and not, and realized with a sense of wholeness that undercuts its quick runtime and speaks to the ongoing creative drive of Wovenhand as a project. I don’t know whether French stepping forward on songwriting was a result of Edwards not having material or not wanting to continue on the path being walked after Star Treatment or what, but Silver Sash steps in a different direction that is encompassing and adds to the mix rather than detracts from the significant achievements of the group over the last 10 years and more.

That leaves the biggest question here as whether Silver Sash is a beginning or an end for Wovenhand, and to what if anything — because it could always be nothing — it might lead. I’m somewhat curious as well both as to the change in processes for the writing and recording, if they were born of pandemic necessity or not. I seem to recall Edwards talking about a new album on social media that was originally due to coincide with touring in 2020/2021. Has Silver Sash been waiting for release all that time? I’m not sure if that actually matters, since they’re hardly the first to have delayed plans, but it feels like it does, though I’ll add that any such delay that might’ve happened does nothing to detract from the urgency in these songs.

At this point, any new offering from Edwards or Wovenhand is going to come with fervent critical hype. Part of that is the fact that, more than 20 years on, Wovenhand are still changing and growing from album to album. It honestly wouldn’t surprise me either way if Silver Sash is the last (for now at least) offering from Wovenhand or if Edwards — the perceived auteur since the outset — loosening the reins of the project to allow for French‘s songwriting flourish will result in a shifted creative balance over more releases to come. Of course it’s impossible to know, and while it’s a quick listen, Silver Sash provides enough substance in the actual listening experience to push such concerns at least to the background if not totally eliminate them. Change may or may not be in the air. I guess we’ll see. Or not.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

—

Something different to close the week with a new album. Maybe I’m sneaking in an extra review this time? I don’t know. It felt right so I ran with it. Kinda wish I knew the record was half an hour long when I shelled out $25 to import the CD, but whatever. It’ll go in the archive. And that matters to me. Because I’m a crazy person.

The Patient Mrs. is in New Orleans for work. A conference. I’ve never been there, but I hear mostly nice things. She’ll be back Sunday, which means it’s me and The Pecan hoofing it through Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Little dude misses his mom, which is fair. We’ve video called a couple times. He says “I love you mommy” as fluidly as he says, “I don’t love you, daddy.” Rolls right off his tongue. I’ve taken to responding “Yes you do” and mirroring his giving-you-shit tone. It’s either that or cry.

Next week I’m going to see YOB at Saint Vitus Bar. Tuesday. It’s my first New York show since the start of the pandemic. I’m nervous, but it’s time, it needs to happen, and YOB are an occasion to make it happen. I need to be around people again if I’m ever going to be. And Uncle Acid/King Buffalo is a couple weeks at Brooklyn Steel. I want to see how KB do on that bigger stage.

I think the tour I’m currently booked to go on next month is going to be delayed or canceled. I’ll keep you posted.

Hey, Boris and Bongzilla released a split this week. This week was pretty overwhelming, actually, when it came to news. Today was nine posts? Yesterday was at least six, maybe seven. I don’t even remember Wednesday, but yeah. Plenty. I guess I’m not the only one poking my head above ground.

New Gimme show today at 5PM. http://gimmeradio.com

Thanks for listening if you do, and thanks for reading either way. I hope you have a great and safe weekend. Hydrate, watch your head, all that stuff. Back at it on Monday.

FRM.

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16 Horsepower, Folklore (2002)

I suppose the first question when it comes to 16 Horsepower‘s fourth and final long-player, Folklore, is whether it’s an album, since less than half of it is original material from the band. Based in Denver, Colorado, the band got their start in 1992 and would release Folklore a decade later through Glitterhouse and Jetset Records, even as frontman/principal songwriter David Eugene Edwards had already begun his next project, Wovenhand. With Folklore, Edwards and the original trio lineup of the band — drummer Jean-Yves Tola and bassist Pascal Humbert — came together to work seemingly in direct defiance to their preceding full-length, 2000’s Secret South, which had adopted a more modern style to what’s been lazily dubbed “alt country” but is really a much richer sonic pastiche, drawing from Americana, goth, folk, indeed country, rock and gospel. One might see Folklore as 16 Horsepower reclaiming their central influences in taking on traditional songs as well as Hank Williams‘ “Alone and Forsaken” and The Carter Family‘s rousing “Single Girl,” but they never fail to make any of this starting material their own, and their sound is one of such character and depth of arrangement that their take still remains original, whether it’s the accusatory “Sinnerman” late in the record or the stirring narrative of “Outlaw Song” earlier.

Of the 10 tracks, opener “Hutterite Mile,” “Blessed Persistence,” “Beyond the Pale” and the penultimate “Flutter” are 16 Horsepower compositions, credited to the band and Edwards specifically. “Outlaw Song,” “Sinnerman” and the French-language closer “La Robe a Parasol” are folk songs, and the other two inclusions are as noted above. What keeps Folklore from being an EP packed with covers, basically, is that the originals are spread across the two sides, with “Hutterite Mile” beginning the album with a deep sense of foreboding and downtrodden heart, while “Blessed Persistence” uses snare drum for tension amid strings later while its early moment jabs in jazzy fashion behind Edwards‘ vocals, keys, harmonies and so on fleshing out an arrangement that sounds minimal and isn’t at all. Elements come and go throughout — the organ on “Hutterite Mile,” the telltale banjo of “Outlaw Song,” the consuming cello in the chorus of “Alone and Forsaken,” and the chorus of voices on “Single Girl” on side A, piano and backward cymbals on “Beyond the Pale,” string drones on “Horse Head Fiddle,” acoustic guitar in “Sinnerman,” piano and strings on “Flutter” and accordion on “La Robe a Parasol” on side B — but the entire spirit of Folklore is about nothing so much as the songs themselves. That is, though Edwards is a significant presence on guitar, banjo, vocals, and so on, even he seems to approach this material with a sense of reverence. And fair enough, since that goes back to 16 Horsepower returning to their roots, but the care and craft put into making these tracks still can’t be called anything other than progressive in the final result, whatever other genre tags with which one might want to saddle them. There are many that would apply, if incompletely.

Each half of Folklore ends in joy. “Single Girl” arrives after the gorgeous and sad “Alone and Forsaken” and takes the country strum of the Carter Family original and layers Edwards‘ vocals on top for a loyalist chorus effect that begs singing along. Likewise, “La Robe a Parasol” appears after arguably the darkest stretch of material 16 Horsepower ever produced in “Beyond the Pale,” “Horse Head Fiddle,” “Sinnerman” and “Flutter.” Certainly there’s a groove underlying “Horse Head Fiddle” and “Flutter,” but the emotional and atmospheric weight with which they’re executed is crushing, and “La Robe a Parasol” offers 2:15 of escapist snare-brush shuffle and accordion, drunkard’s French and backing woops and hollers to underscore the at-the-fair feel. Side A undergoes a similar shift, to be sure, as it heads toward “Single Girl,” but “Hutterite Mile” — the lines, “It’s only misery/It’s only ankle-deep,” some of the most efficient lyric-writing I’ve ever heard — and “Outlaw Song” and “Blessed Persistence” and even “Alone and Forsaken” aren’t as dark as what the second half of Folklore has on offer. It’s a question of ambience in some respect, but side B simply pushes further into whatever unseen reaches of the American plains the band are traveling. “Horse Head Fiddle” is perhaps the most experimentalist moment on Folklore, with flute, string drones, layers of noise and vocals all too obscure to be readily discernible, and by comparison, “Sinnerman”‘s interwoven dual-track verses are resoundingly straightforward. The underlying structure of Folklore, though, is a tapestry. Of originals and choice covers and folk songs all brought into a singular context the likes of which 16 Horsepower had never built before and never would again. My understanding is that when it came out, response was mixed, but of all the work 16 Horsepower did during their time together, Folklore has arguably held up best — though I won’t take away from Secret South or 1997’s Low Estate or ’95’s Sackcloth ‘n’ Ashes either, frankly — perhaps as a result of seeming so out of its own time in the first place.

As mentioned, it’s the band’s final studio outing. They would follow it with a compilation titled Olden the next year, but by then, Edwards already had two Wovenhand releases out in the 2002 self-titled debut (discussed here) and 2003’s Blush Music, and that band would ultimately take priority, going on to issue 10 albums moving in an increasingly heavy direction from their neo-folk beginnings. The latest of those albums, 2016’s Star Treatment (review here), is the most outwardly heavy work they’ve done, but it still retains a tie both to their earlier material and to 16 Horsepower‘s roots as shown on Folklore, with Edwards‘ inimitable style as a driving force. 16 Horsepower have had periodic releases out post-breakup, with two DVDs in the mid-aughts, as well as the excellent Live March 2001 collection in 2008 and a 2CD comp of greatest hits and rare tracks, respectively, titled Yours Truly in 2011. That latter would seem to be a true signoff on the part of the band, which is fair enough, but especially listening to Folklore, it’s clear that there was still so much exploring of these ideas to do when they called it quits, even if that creative growth was taken in different directions in the years since.

I love this record.

As always, I hope you enjoy.

—

It’s about five-thirty in the morning. I’ve already put up two posts of the six slated for today — yesterday wound up being seven, which is a lot — and I’m still getting caught up on stuff post-Roadburn. Man, what a trip that was. So good. Every year. So good.

It happens once or twice a year that in the span of a day or two you wind up getting what you immediately know will be some of the year’s best records. For my own future reference, I’d like to note that this week albums from Slough Feg, Sun Blood Stories, Kandodo3, Slomatics, Beastwars, Zaum and Yawning Man came in for future coverage. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a week where I’ve ended up so happy to check my email.

Ah, the baby’s getting up.

Okay, I’ll keep it short then. Notes for next week, cut and paste right from the document. Next week rules:

MON 04/22 LOS MUNDOS ALBUM STREAM/GETAWAY VAN VIDEO PREMIERE

TUE 04/23 ALTAR OF OBLIVION ALBUM STREAM

WED 04/24 WORSHIPPER TRACK PREMIERE

THU 04/25 STONE MACHINE ELECTRIC REVIEW/FULL STREAM

FRI 04/26 THE WELL VIDEO PREMIERE/REVIEW

As you can see, I have no set format for these things. I just put them in all caps and hope to remember them when the time comes. Being a one-man operation has its ups and downs. Doing the Weirdo Canyon Dispatch daily fanzine at Roadburn always brings those into relief, though I will note that this year particularly made me miss having a writing staff. I don’t think I could take one on here, but yeah. That’s a good bunch of people over there and I’m fortunate to work with them.

Looks like a permanent move back to New Jersey may be in the cards for this summer. I’ll keep you posted.

More on that later, I’m sure, but for now let me go grab this poor kid and start the day. I hope you have a great and safe weekend. Please don’t forget there’s merch at Dropout, and please don’t forget the forum and radio stream.

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“Straw Foot,” written by David Eugene Edwards during his time with 16 Horsepower, was released on that band’s 2000 album, Secret South, as the closer. It’s one of the record’s more memorable tracks — 16 Horsepower‘s take on the traditional “Wayfaring Stranger” is also particularly striking, as are several others; “Poor Mouth,” “Silver Saddle,” etc. — and this performance was filmed in 2009, some four years after they disbanded and some seven after Wovenhand, Edwards‘ subsequent and current outfit, released their landmark self-titled outing.

The two bands exist on such different wavelengths it’s hard to think of them running concurrently, though in many ways Secret South was the last 16 Horsepower album, followed by the live album Hoarse (2000), 2002’s Folklore, half of which was takes on traditional folk songs à la the aforementioned “Wayfaring Stranger” (no less brilliantly done; see “Single Girl” and “Outlaw Song”), and their swansong compilation Olden, which brought out material from early sessions in 1993 and 1994. But they did run for a while at the same time, Wovenhand releasing their sophomore album, Consider the Birds, even as 16 Horsepower embarked on some of their final touring. Hindsight gives smoothness to what at the time are often jagged transitions.

There’s a lot of great stuff on the internet. I’m particularly fond of this site, for example. There’s a lot of crap too. I’ve had a hard time coming up with something better than the clip above of Edwards playing “Straw Foot.” The raw, organic performance showing the song’s roots. Edwards‘ voice, which I’ve no doubt generations to come will fail to imitate. How the camera seems to dance in and out of focus to the music. It’s something I keep going back to, so I wanted to post it here in case anyone else had missed it along the way. I know sometimes we all get busy, and not in the fun way.

I recently had occasion to pick up Wovenhand‘s latest album, 2012’s The Laughing Stalk, on CD from Glitterhouse Records. Psych heads might recall their early Monster Magnet releases. After The Laughing Stalk (original review here) was released last fall, I spent some pretty significant time with the then-available digital stream via Bandcamp. There was a special edition LP/CD version available, but for someone like me — I hope you’ll pardon the melodrama, but I sometimes feel like the Omega Man of the CD-purchasing market — a straight-up compact disc was what I was looking for, so when I saw the Glitterhouse version available, digipak-style, I jumped on it, and no regrets.

It hadn’t been that long since I heard it anyway, but I still felt like I was somewhat revisiting tracks like “King O King” — the line “The people, a vain thing” standing out even more this time around — and the building spiritual energy of “Coup Stick,” which bides its time amidst organ tones to open up with Edwards vocals in its second half. I didn’t even know the album was recorded live (no easy feat given the variety of arrangements), so for that little piece of knowledge, it was easily worth the price for a purchase I was going to make anyway. And if the worst that happens is I spent more time hypnotized by Ordy Garrison‘s drums on “Maize” and “In the Temple,” chances are I’ll live.

Probably this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s mine, so for a bit of symmetry with where we started this post, here’s the title-track to The Laughing Stalk to finish:

I didn’t hear immediately about Wovenhand‘s The Laughing Stalk upon its digital release on Sept. 11, but I’ve spent a fair amount of time with it since, the David Eugene Edwards-led Colorado progressive/neo-folk outfit continuing to seek the very kind of aural fullness that Edwards‘ prior outfit, 16 Horsepower, seemed so bent on eschewing. The Laughing Stalk (released by Sounds Familyre in the US and Glitterhouse in Europe in a limited-to-2,000 LP/CD run due in November) follows 2010’s The Threshingfloor (semi-review here), a powerful fifth album that set the tone for many of the explorations contained in these nine tracks, which run a stylistic gamut from the grandiose pop of “In the Temple” (which sounds like what U2 might be if they weren’t a vacuous minstrelsy of false importance) to the late-arriving distortion of “As Wool,” punkish in its snare insistence and as joyous as it is heavy.

Tying the material together is Edwards‘ unmatched depth of arrangement, unabashed Christian faith and inimitable vocal swagger. It is the latter that carries the landscape of opener “Long Horn,” though perhaps more than they’ve ever been, Wovenhand are a full band on The Laughing Stalk, and whatever presence Edwards brings to these tracks (he brings plenty) is enriched by the performances of guitarist Sir Charles French, bassist Gregory Garcia, drummer Ordy Garrison (who features often) and organist Jeffery Linsenmeier. Songs here are expansive, beginning with “Long Horn” and continuing through the viciously rhythmic closer “Glistening Black,” but there’s space in them as well, and as ever, Edwards gracefully straddles genre as only one genuinely unconcerned with it can.

In its stylistic sprawl, The Laughing Stalk basks in an expanded definition Americana, bringing in Native American rhythms and adapting them to a track like “King o King,” both one of the record’s heaviest and most memorable cuts, with verse proclamations no less resonant than the release of its chorus. Put in the Christian context, it’s a problematic mesh, but so is American history. Wherever individual pieces go, be it the shorter, avant incantations of “Closer” or the ethereal piano wonderment of “Maize,” which follows and begins with the single word “fox,” what remains firm is a focus on rhythm, on percussion, and an unmistakably heavy vibe. The music itself is often weighted, sonically I mean, and emotional heft is nothing new for Edwards with this band over the course of their now decade-long tenure, but as dark as Wovenhand have been at times in the past, the elements have never been quite put together in this combination.

Likewise, I’m not sure they’ve ever sounded quite so rapturous. While Garrison beats out a percussive line as to make Danny Carey of Tool circa “Reflection” blush, Edwards bides his time vocally for the power and fury to come later into the song, topping heady, far-back distorted guitars with a profession of faith that asks, “Who is like as you are?” in that elevated preacher’s son language that has always given Wovenhand a spiritual sensibility to go with their ultra-upfront religiosity, taking the words and not just repeating, but using them to speak.

About that: I’ve long been of the opinion that if you disparage a work of art on the basis of faith, whether it’s a statue of Buddha carved into the side of a mountain or a Trouble record, you’re a fool. There’s been no shortage truly heinous shit done in the name of Christianity throughout the last 1,800 years or so, but on the other hand, the Pietà (we can debate the balance of one side or the other ad nauseam, and people do, as if it could get them anywhere). If you can’t take Edwards turning dogma into gorgeous hymns as he does here, you’re the one losing out. “As Wool” and “Glistening Black” cap The Laughing Stalk with crushing, humbling grace, each enacting an album’s worth of build and exaltation on its own, and offering the collection’s most bombastic moments, never uncontrolled no matter how much they might seem to be on the verge of collapse.

Those who’ve never heard Wovenhand before who come from the heavier end of the spectrum will probably have more in The Laughing Stalk to cling to than they may have on earlier outings like 2004’s Consider the Birds or 2002’s self-titled debut, but everything on this album is no less Wovenhand now than that material was then. They’ve worked ceaselessly to push forward what that means, and however much pressure they may apply at any given moment in these songs, The Laughing Stalk shows no signs of breaking, and Wovenhand retain the mountainous sense of wonder that has typified their work since the start.

Wovenhand’s website

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